


All Things Serve A Purpose (Right?)

by Seananigans74



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels are meanies, Crowley and Aziraphale don't know how to say "I love you", Gen, Heaven is the worst, I apologize in advanced I don't know how tags work, angst???, but they sure as Somewhere know how to show it, like not really but just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26533360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seananigans74/pseuds/Seananigans74
Summary: Aziraphale is trying to come up with excuses for why he lets Crowley hang around so much without Heaven figuring out what sort of answers he's really looking for.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 10





	All Things Serve A Purpose (Right?)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I've ever written if you'll believe it. If anyone can teach what the ding-dong I'm supposed to do with tags don't be afraid to yell at me for being such an idiot about it because as you could probably tell I don't know what I'm doing in that department.  
> Enjoy the story.

“But certainly there must be a reason for them,” Aziraphale said with a little too much hope in his voice “Otherwise we would just, well, get rid of them all. We are Angels. I’m sure we could if we needed to, but we haven’t. So they must be important somehow, right?”

Gabriel gave him the kindest, most sincere insincere smile he could possibly manage.

“Oh, it would take too long, Aziraphale. Besides, we’ve tried. Waited for a few of those scoundrels to pop up on Earth, then sent some of our best warriors down to dispose of them. We got rid of a few of them that way, actually.” Gabriel’s smile became more sincere now that he was offering it to his own accomplishments and not someone else. “Although, eventually, The Almighty asked us civilly to stop. And you don’t argue with The Almighty, as I’m sure you know.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale. Suddenly, he was shaking. He was scared. Gabriel hadn't said much, but the idea of Angels running around freely on Earth looking to destroy Demons made him absolutely petrified. Not that he worried about the Demons, exactly, no. He didn't worry about _Demons_.

Certainly not "Demons" plural, anyway.

“I wasn’t aware of that.” He said. 

He knew immediately why that was the case. Of course he wouldn't have been made aware of such a plan. Gabriel certainly wouldn’t have told him, Michael and Sandalphon only did what Gabriel asked them to do, and Uriel simply didn’t like Aziraphale and wasn’t afraid to show it – unlike the others, who disliked him in private. 

Aziraphale didn’t like any of them either, of course, but he wasn’t quite ready to admit that yet.

“We thought it best not to bother you with it,” Gabriel went on, “you being on Earth all the time already. You were busy, we had others for the job.”

“I see,” said Aziraphale. He didn’t want to say much else because he knew that if he allowed himself to speak much further he’d end up asking about Crowley, and that simply would not do. It wouldn’t be until much later that night when Aziraphale got his answer, but not from any Angel, who would certainly never have told him, but from Crowley himself.

“What do you mean you didn’t want to worry me?” Originally Aziraphale had imagined the conversation going:  
 _“Crowley, did you know that the Angels once tried to get rid of all of you?”_  
 _“No, I did not.”_  
 _“Well, apparently that was the case. More wine, dear?”_

When Crowley went off script, however, Aziraphale forgot all about the wine and pleasantries. The Angel didn’t get angry with Crowley often. Irritated, certainly. Fed up with, quite often. But never _angry_.

“I really don’t know how else to say it, Aziraphale.” Crowley could tell his angel was getting upset, so he tried to backtrack. “I didn’t know much of it anyway. Beelzebub sent out a notice or something. Said to keep a lookout in case any, uh, you know. But I never had any trouble anyway so it wasn’t a problem!”

“But it _could_ have been!” Aziraphale was standing now and almost, but not quite, shouting. He took the wine glass out of Crowley’s hand and set it on his desk next to him. The bookshop always helped him to stay calm, to feel at ease, so it was even more unnerving to him that he was feeling so furious with Crowley in that same shop.

“You should have told me so I could help you watch out for them!” The Angel continued. “Imagine what could have happened if one of them got to you. Or if they tracked you when we were together! They wouldn’t even Smite you then, they’d probably send you Down There and have your stock...” he hesitated on the word “torture.” It was accurate, of course, it was Hell he was talking about, but he didn’t like to think about it. And saying it was worse than thinking about it. Saying it made it real.

“...deal with you.” He finished.

“Look, angel, I’m sorry, okay?” Crowley _didn’t_ that he was confused. He _didn’t_ say that he felt like his heart skipped a beat when Aziraphale hinted to how much he cared about him through his offer to protect him. And he certainly _didn’t_ say that such an offer would never work because Aziraphale would always run back to Heaven in the end.

This was wrong, even now, but Crowley didn’t say it. So he would never know.

There was silence in the back room of A. Z. Fell and Co.’s Bookshop for what felt like an eternity. Or part of an eternity, anyway, because Crowley could only stand silence for so long.

“So, more wine?” Crowley tried to say it casually. He even leaned back into the chase and stuck a long leg out in front of him, but he threaded his eyebrows together and scrunched up his forehead in the sort of way that asked _please don’t be mad at me anymore_ and kept his dark glasses stable over his eyes.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and sat back down in his seat across from the Demon. He wasn’t mad anymore. Well, not _as_ mad at least. He was an Angel. Anger wasn't something he held onto But he was worried. He had assumed that he and Crowley were at a point at which they could be honest with each other. Or mostly honest, at least. Certainly honest enough to where if one of their lives were in danger the other would be the first to know. Crowley had come to Aziraphale’s rescue so many times before. Why couldn’t he let Aziraphale pay him back for it?

 _Maybe it’s worse to be saved by an Angel than to save an Angel,_ Aziraphale thought.

“I think I’m done for tonight, actually.” He said. He needed to think. Needed to consider why it was exactly that he cared about this so much. Crowley was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, Aziraphale just wished he didn’t have to be all the time.

“Oh,” Crowley could barely hide the disappointment in his voice. “Alright. I’ll just, be going then.”

Crowley stood up quickly and shuffled towards the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he risked a glance back. Aziraphale was watching him. He was always watching him, but it was different this time. This time he wasn’t trying to hide his wandering gaze, he didn’t flick his eyes away as soon as Crowley met them from behind his tinted armor.

Then

“Goodnight, angel.”

And Crowley left.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As I said, this is my first time every writing fanfic so this work is more like me just trying it out which is why the pacing is a bit fast. I have some ideas for this storyline so there's a possibility of more, but I'm keeping it as a single chapter for now because short stories often get away from me. If you liked it though let me know and I'll think about continuing it. Thanks again!


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